


tear in my heart

by AsunaChinaDoll



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BIG OOF, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Especially Peter, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpiderSon, Mentioned Ben Parker, No one is handling this well, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, Precious Peter Parker, Whump, Worried May Parker (Spider-Man), tony stark is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsunaChinaDoll/pseuds/AsunaChinaDoll
Summary: For everyone else, it's been three and a half weeks in a world without Iron Man.For Peter Parker, it's been three and a half weeks in a world without Tony Stark.And while Peter falls apart, May is there to hold him together.





	tear in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame officially ruined/completed my life and I have a lot of feelings about it. This is what came out of those feelings. Enjoy! :D

Not everyone could say that they grew up in a world protected by Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Fortunately for Peter, he could, and he'd talk anyone's ear off about how cool they were, whether you wanted to hear it or not. May and Ben were often the prime targets of said Peter's fanboying, constantly hearing about the next case of injustice in the world and how the Avengers swooped in and saved the day like they always did.

 

Who May and Ben heard about the most was undoubtedly Peter's favorite Avenger, Iron Man. Not only was Iron Man incredibly cool with a red and gold suit of armor but he was also the famous Tony Stark. A man as sharp as he looks, he was able to craft himself a mechanism with his bare hands that gave him the power to save people's lives. To a young, scrawny boy known more so for his brains than his brawn, Iron Man was a beacon of hope shining as bright as the arc reactor sitting in his chest.

 

May and Ben swore that the kid had some sort of sixth sense that told him Iron Man was close by.

 

One of Peter’s favorite things to do growing up was stargaze with his Uncle Ben. Peter would practically go on his hands and knees, begging to stay up late so that they could. As soon as his little nephew busted out his big ol’ puppy eyes, Ben couldn’t help but relent with a fond smile, shrugging helplessly at his wife.

 

Ben had gifted the young boy a telescope and Peter rushed to his room to retrieve it. The telescope was nothing special, top-heavy with long legs to stand on and Peter always struggled to hold it up. Thankfully, his Uncle always came to his rescue, patiently prying the tool from Peter’s little hands with a chuckle. Having set it up on their small balcony, Ben would pull up a chair and grab his ever energetic nephew underneath his armpits, placing him on his lap. The toothy grin he’d get from the boy would warm Ben’s heart.

 

Peter was looking through the eye of the telescope and Ben would try to tell him as much as he could about the constellations. But, it was always Peter he learned the most from, spewing out facts left and right. The kid wasn’t even eight years old yet and he was one of the smartest people Ben knew.

 

It was like a light switch Peter had just for Iron Man, because one minute he was talking about the constellation of Orion and the next he was leaping off of his Uncle’s lap, shouting and pointing at a spot in the sky. Ben would squint his eyes in the direction, trying to see what Peter was seeing. Then, Iron Man zoomed past, leaving a trail of artificial clouds behind him. Peter would wave excitedly at him, jumping up and down with enthusiasm. Ben could easily see the starstruck look in the boy’s eyes.

 

Just like anyone else who looked up and saw the bright, shining beacon of hope in Iron Man’s chest, Peter was filled with hope.

 

Because no matter who needed help, Iron Man was there.

 

He will always be there.

 

* * *

 

 

For everyone else, it's been three and a half weeks in a world without Iron Man.

 

For Peter Parker, it's been three and a half weeks in a world without Tony Stark.

 

Peter couldn't help but smile as the wind rushes passed his ears while he reaches the climax of his swing before gravity takes over once again. Allowing himself a few seconds to fall, Peter activates his right web shooter, watching it zoom in the air like a bullet to latch onto its target before it caught, letting Peter continue to swing through the air before repeating the process.

 

“Hey KAREN, how much longer until we're home?” Peter asks, shooting another string of web to a nearby building.

 

“We're approximately 11 minutes and 36 seconds till arrival.” His trustworthy AI responds, her voice as sweet and cheery as usual.

 

“Thanks KAREN!” Spider-Man responds, speeding over a line of cars stopped at a red light and as he arched his body, he threw himself forward and launched another web to swing from. As KAREN acknowledges his thanks, he feels the familiar strain of his muscles with each oscillation, although more so from fatigue he realizes.

 

Peter suddenly registers that he can’t remember the last time he took a break. It was probably sometime before he got beamed up into an alien wizard’s flying doughnut of a ship, Peter chuckling at that. Then, like the weirdest fever dream in the history of fever dreams, he was in space, fighting a large purple raisin man alongside his mentor, Doctor Strange, and some other people that he could not, to save his life, remember their names.

 

And they seemingly lost that fight because the next thing Peter knew was that his spidey senses were screaming at some unseen danger and he was stumbling into Mr. Stark’s arms, gripping his shirt like a lifeline, his eyes watering at the revelation that he was dying. It brought back a memory, a conversation he had had with the older man about Tony blaming himself if Peter ever got hurt. He tried not to remember his mentor’s face as he whispered the only thing he could say in that moment, _“I’m sorry.”_

 

Suddenly, he was alive again, Doctor Strange quickly explaining what had happened and then they were going through those circular portals that looked like sparklers. As soon as Peter saw Mr. Stark, he was eagerly swinging towards him. For as long as Peter lives, he will never forget the look on Mr. Stark’s face when he landed in front of the man, helping him up from the ground.

 

_“... But Doctor Strange was there, right?! He was like, ‘It’s been five years. Come on, they need us!’” Peter explains. As he spoke, Mr. Stark’s face shifted from his previous wide-eyed disbelief to a hardened frown, pushing and pulling at the lines of his face. But he was far from upset, his dark eyes full of warmth and relief. Peter had been too jittery and into his tale to notice as the older man took a few steps forward and envelops him into a tight hug._

 

_Peter blinks in surprise, quick to reciprocate, wrapping his arms around his mentor. Mr. Stark lets out a small, shaky breath against his ear and he pulls the boy closer, pressing the side of his face against Peter’s curls. It was almost like Mr. Stark hadn’t seen him in forever. Warmth spread throughout Peter’s chest, holding the man back just as tightly. Peter mutters, “This is nice.”_

 

Peter’s heart clenches at the memory, the all too familiar ache in his chest presenting itself. It was like a boulder sitting in his ribcage, heavy, present and painful. It had culminated there three and a half weeks ago. Peter shoots another web to swing from, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to cry again. Lost in thought, Peter didn’t notice the whirring sounds nearby and as he swung around the corner of the buil--

 

**_BAM!_ **

 

Peter yelps involuntarily as his head snaps back at the sudden obstacle hitting his face. Suddenly he was falling,

  


 

grappling at the air,

  


 

before instinctively pressing the button of his web shooters with his fingers, but it was too late.

 

His back collides hard with solid metal, tearing the breath from his lungs, making him wheeze. The momentum of his fall continues to drag him backwards and he tumbles onto a cold surface, his hand gripping the railing as he gasps. He lay there for a moment, looking up at the night sky, the stars invisible above the light pollution.

 

“Ow.” Peter declares, releasing his hold on the railing, glancing at the now dented metal from his death grip. He winces as he slowly rolls over and he brings a hand to his head. He looks around, noting that he landed on an old fire escape stairwell. “KAREN? What the heck just happened?”

 

“It appears as though you had an altercation with a drone, Peter,” She informs the young man, her voice somehow sounding amused, and he huffs a half-humored laugh.

 

“Who flies a drone at one in the morning!?” He exclaims, pulling himself to his feet. Why didn’t he sense something? His spidey senses, as he coined the term, were amazing at alerting him to nearby danger. If he could trust anything, it was his instincts. Normally, they would blare like crazy if something was coming towards him. But apparently his spidey senses weren’t as effective if he was going _towards_ the danger. He mentally slaps his forehead with an exasperated groan.

 

“Apparently, a man named Wayne Higgins,” KAREN responds, a small holographic image of the man appearing in Peter’s field of vision. “I was able to scan the drone and find that it is registered underneath his name.”

 

Peter hums in response, gently testing his limbs to see if he broke anything. As if reading his mind, KAREN supplies, “You have sustained no major injuries but it appears you have a 4.7 inch laceration along the right side of your torso.” Peter’s mind reels at the identification of his injury, quickly searching his own body for them. Right where KAREN stated it would be, a long clean gash ran up his side and his eyes widened. He brings a hand up to the injury, wincing at the sting, pulling back to see blood staining his gloved fingers. He swears under his breath. “There are also bruises beginning to materialize across your scapulae, commonly referred to as your shoulder blades.”

 

“Thanks KAREN,” He mumbles, pulling off his mask and sighing at the absurdity of the situation. Not that he was surprised. Even with his spider abilities, he found that he injured himself more often than the muggers he stopped in shady alleyways. “This is just perfect. Now I have to explain to Mr. Star--”

 

Peter’s mind stutters, a sharp stab in his chest. No. No, he can’t ask Mr. Stark for help. Not anymore.

 

“ _Nonono Mr. Stark--”_ The boy inhales shakily at the memory, biting his lip to try and quell the feeling of crying that rose in him.

 

He didn’t care that he was hurt. It was something he was used to. But his suit… Whatever had cut him was able to tear through the durable fabric. His first _real_ suit, that Tony Stark, Iron Man himself, created just for him. Mr. Stark said himself that it had costed a couple million dollars. And in his stupidity, he ruined it.

 

 _Get a hold of yourself Peter!_ He thought, quickly blinking away the tears that began to pool in his eyes. _You’re Spider-Man! You can fix this._ He took another deep breath and ran a hand through his curls.

 

“Okay… I can… I can fix this.” He tells himself, his doubt betraying his tone. Whenever his suit needed repairs, he and Tony would work together in the man’s personal lab. Depending on the damage, it could take anywhere between a few hours to a day. Peter could vaguely recall how Mr. Stark did it, using the technology he had at his fingertips. Peter wasn’t Tony Stark, but he was smart and a fast learner. If he tinkered with it long enough, he could figure it out. Maybe he could ask Pepper--

 

He quickly dismissed the idea. He couldn’t ask her; it was insensitive. She was still grieving, ~~like he was~~ , and she has a daughter to take care of. He didn’t know Mr. Stark had had a child.

 

He would just have to do this on his own.

 

He had gotten used to not doing this on his own.

 

Pulling his mask back over his face, he perches on top of the railing and quickly shoots a string of web, leaping off the fire escape.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite Aunt May's strict time frames of when he's allowed to go out patrolling, the young man had been sneaking out after a few bites of dinner, web slinging himself around the city, pretending that going out at night distracted him. The young man could only hope against hope that May was asleep, not having discovered his empty bedroom.

 

As quietly as he could, Peter opened his bedroom window and crawled inside the cluttered room. He tilted his head to the side, his enhanced hearing only picking up the soft snores of his aunt in the next room. Gently setting himself on the floor, Peter taps the spider emblem on his chest, the fabric releasing and slinking down his arms. He tore his mask off, throwing it haphazardly on his desk, and then glances down at the cut on his side. Thankfully due to his healing factor, the long gash on his side was already knitting itself back together. He picks up a science pun shirt from the floor, giving it a quick sniff, before pulling it over his head. Once he had some pajama pants on, he clears off his desk and gingerly sets his suit on top, the desk lamp spotlighting the spider logo. Exhaustion made itself known in the way his bones ached stiffly and he stretches his limbs before grabbing his trusty sewing kit and settling down in a chair.

 

He wasn’t a professional sewer in any capacity but that’s what YouTube videos were for. He watched a whole ton when making his first suit. It ended with a lot of pricked fingers but he’d managed. Acquainted with the feeling of the needle between his fingers, he pulls the thread through the needle after many failed previous attempts. Why did they have to make the eye of the needle so tiny??? Peter began gently pushes the sharp object through the material, working his way up the tear in his suit. The clock on his nightstand read 2:27 a.m. when he finally steps back and observes his handy work.

 

 _It could be worse,_ he reasoned to himself at seeing the uneven lines of the thread like a tiny ladder up the side. The longer Peter looks at his work, the deeper his frown becomes.

 

Mr. Stark would know how to fix this. He’d make it better, like nothing had happened in the first place. They would be together in his lab, Mr. Stark teasing Peter about his fight with a drone. Peter would be embarrassed at his confession to ~~his~~ a superhero, but Mr. Stark would just wrap an arm around his shoulders, tucking the young man against his side. Peter would get to smell the strangely comforting scent of motor oil and Axe deodorant, looking up at his mentor to see him smiling fondly and ruffle his hair. _“Just duck next time, kid.”_

 

Something that felt like heat began to bubble underneath his skin, rising to his boyish face and he grits his teeth against the sudden urge to scream. His vision begins to blur at the edges as he felt his eyes begin to water against his will. He lets out a frustrated sigh before tossing his suit back down on his desk. He brings trembling hands up to his face, fervently wiping at his eyes and something that sounds like a whimper passes through his lips.

 

“Peter?” A soft voice calls for him and his head snaps up towards it. Aunt May slowly steps forward, her eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

 

The concern pouring from his Aunt is what enables the boy, a choked sob squeezing its way out of his throat. At hearing it, May is immediately at his side, wrapping her arms around Peter as he finally gives in. He snakes his arms around the woman, his fingers getting tangled in her long hair. He squeezes his eyes shut, fat tears escaping at the corners, and hides his face against the crook of her neck as he lets out another cry. May is quick to move her nephew to his bed, never letting go. Her hands rub comforting circles into his back as he continues to cry against her.

 

“It's okay, baby. It's okay.” May murmurs into his ear. _But it's not okay_ , he wanted to argue. Mr. Stark was gone. He shakes his head.

 

“It's m-my fa-ault.” He stutters quietly. It takes May a second to register what he said. She pulls away just enough to look at her nephew's face and cups his cheek.

 

“What was you fault?” She asks, keeping her voice light. He takes a shaky breath and averts her gaze.

 

“I… I r-r-ruined my s-suit. I-I was s-swinging home a-and… a d-drone h-hit me in the f-face and I f-fell.” He croaks. Had Peter not been crying, May surely would've burst out laughing. Instead, she lets out a pitiful sigh.

 

“Oh, Peter.” He feels his eyes begin to water again, his lip quivering slightly. Her eyes scanning him, she asks, “Are you hurt?”

 

He bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “I'm fine. B-but my suit got p-pretty messed up.” He swallows dryly, struggling to speak around the lump in his throat. Another tear slips down his cheek and Aunt May gently wipes it away with her thumb. He sniffles, leaning into his aunt's comforting touch.

 

“I t-tried f-fixing it but…” His voice trails off along with his eyes, glancing to his desk where the suit lies. He sniffles again. “It's n-not the s-same.”

 

With that, he was crying again, May’s arms wrapped firmly around him, grounding. His forehead presses against her collarbone as sobs wrack his trembling form.

 

“I… I-I ju-ust m-miss hi-m. I m-miss h-him so mu-uch.” Peter manages to say between his sobs, feeling incredibly young as his Aunt slowly rocks him back and forth. Her fingers card soothingly through his messy hair.

 

“I know, Petey. I know.” She responds calmly, pulling him closer. Ever so patient, Aunt May continues to rub comforting circles against his back. It only seemed to make Peter cry harder, hating that he was keeping his poor Aunt awake when she had work the next day, and making her shirt all wet with his tears and snot.

 

It took a while before Peter was able regain his composure and calm down. Peter felt his body physically sag with exhaustion. His eyes felt swollen and his nose stuffy. He must've looked like a wreck. May took a breath before gripping her nephew's shoulders, leaning down to look him in the eyes.

 

“I know this is really tough for you, honey. But, it’s gonna be alright. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or five years from now. But, one day…” She cups Peter’s cheek, offering him a soft smile, “It will be okay.”

 

Peter offers back a small smile of his own, nodding at her words. “I know. It just…” Peter’s voice trails off, his hands gesticulating as he tries to find what to say. “It feels so different. It _hurts_ differently, than when we lost Uncle Ben.”

 

May nods understandably, encouraging Peter to continue. She’s always been the best listener. “It’s like… I mean… Uncle Ben took such great care of me. I miss him, every day. But, he’s always been just Uncle Ben to me. But with Mr. Stark…” Peter takes a deep breath, momentarily trying to process his own words. Suddenly, a memory pops into mind.

 

He was in the lab with Mr. Stark and they were working on a project together. Peter had been rambling on about what happened at school that day, Mr. Stark occasionally humming in response to let him know he was listening. Or perhaps make it seem that he was pretending to listen, but Peter didn’t really mind. Then, Mr. Stark interrupted him with a question.

 

 _“Hey son, d’ya mind bringing me that thingamabob on the table over there?”_ He had asked distractedly, elbow deep in some machinery. But Peter’s mind seemed to be stumbling over one word: _son_. He didn’t mind the term of endearment, but for some reason, it sounded different coming from Mr. Stark. It sounded like it meant something. Peter’s chest bloomed with warmth at hearing it. It had been a long time since he’d been anyone’s son. He’s been a nephew for as long as he can remember, which wasn’t a bad thing, he loved it. It just… felt nice to be a son again.

 

 _“Pete? I thought you had enhanced hearing, what’s the hold up?”_ Mr. Stark questioned teasingly and Peter sprung to life. Grabbing the device he asked for, Peter quickly recovered from his little incident.

 

_“Honestly Mr. Stark, I was just shocked that you called this wrench a thingamabob.”_

 

Sensing his amusement, Mr. Stark quipped back, _“Hey, even geniuses like me have brain farts. Sue me.”_ Peter had laughed, the smile never fading.

 

“Mr. Stark… Tony treated me like… Like I was his kid. Like his…” Peter couldn’t seem to utter the last word but Aunt May understood, rubbing his arm.

 

“He was probably the closest thing you knew to a father. And that’s why it hurts so differently than with Ben. But, one thing I know for sure, is that they both loved you _so_ much.” Aunt May squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “They were good men. They would want you to be happy.”

 

Peter grips Aunt May’s hand for a moment, agreeing with the woman. He offers her the best smile he could muster, despite his heavy eyelids and emotional breakdown.

 

“Well, kiddo, I think it’s about time we get to bed, hmm?” She stands, bending down to press her lips against Peter’s forehead. His eyes close automatically at the affection, his heart warmed by his Aunt’s sweet, nurturing nature. He can smell the coconut shampoo wafting from her long hair. Her hand remains on his shoulder when she pulls back, her expression turned a bit more serious, a small frown on her face. The shift in the air had Peter suddenly aware.

 

“I know it’s tough Pete, but please, please take care of yourself. You haven’t been eating as much as you used to.” He looks away from her gaze sheepishly. He hadn't been very hungry these past few weeks, only eating in front of others so as not to worry them. His enhanced metabolism has had other things to say about it, reacting by giving Peter dizzy spells and stomach aches, as if threatening him by not eating enough food that his own stomach would eat itself. Peter didn't really want to muster the energy to care, and he thought Aunt May hadn’t noticed. He should’ve known better by now.

 

“I will, Aunt May.”

 

“ _And_ ,” She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you Spider-Manning after hours,” He shifts underneath her glare. “Which means you’ve barely gotten any rest between that and school. Stick to what we arranged. You need your rest, Peter. Sound fair?”

 

“Yeah, sounds fair.” Peter nods, beginning to shuffle his way underneath the covers. “I’m sorry for worrying you, May. I don’t mean to.”

 

“I’ll always worry about you kiddo. It’s pretty much my job, 24/7.” Aunt May smirks teasingly and pats his arm before making her way to the door, turning off his desk lamp in the process. She turns, flashing him a gentle smile.

 

“Good night Petey. I love you.”

 

“I love you too Aunt May.” _More than you’ll ever know._

 

As soon as his bedroom door is shut, Peter settles into the quiet, quickly relaxing underneath his comforter. Just as he’s floating on the cusp of blissful sleep, his eyes shoot open at another painstaking memory, his heart stopping in his chest.

 

 

_Crap._

 

 

 

_I have a Spanish test today._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and leaving kudos/comments! <333
> 
> This was my first time writing for the Marvel fandom so I hope I did a good. Peter is a baby boy and deserves all of the hugs. Also TONNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY T.T
> 
> Shout out to my lovely, amazing, talented beta reader, @alchemtk on Instagram! Check him out, he makes amazing artwork and I'm pretty sure he also has an AO3 account ;)))))))
> 
> OH one more thing: I am not above using a Twenty One Pilots song as my title, don't @ me XP
> 
> P.S. Anyone catch my reference to ITSV? ^^


End file.
